


you can't have us both

by longhairandbarefeet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Cousin Incest, Cunnilingus, F/M, Post Season 7, Smut, implied jon and dany, they don't know they are cousins yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 22:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairandbarefeet/pseuds/longhairandbarefeet
Summary: "You betrayed the North, you betrayed our House, you betrayed your family--" she says back, tears sitting at the corners of her eyes, and even though she's quiet, her voice seems strained, angry. He knows what she means.you betrayed me





	you can't have us both

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so here it is, my attempt at a fix it fic. I hope everyone enjoys it! :)
> 
> it's unbeta'd, sorry for mistakes!

"I’m not sorry," Jon says, his tone is an elevated whisper because the whole castle sleeps except him and Sansa. He says it, such cold words for a cold night, but even as he speaks them, they sound like a haphazard apology. "I'm not sorry, I did what I had to do."

 

"You betrayed the North, you betrayed our House, you betrayed your family--" she says back, tears sitting at the corners of her eyes, and even though she's quiet, her voice seems strained, angry. He knows what she means. _you betrayed me_

 

"I did what I had to do." He repeats, rubbing the tired from his eyes, he hadn't had a good night sleep since leaving the North for Dragonstone, and it was written in the bags beneath his eyes. He had hoped being back in his bed would bring some comfort, but instead he found himself unable to sleep, and he found himself standing outside her chambers. 

 

"Yes," Sansa affirms coldly, eyes blue as ice, sharp and unforgiving too. "You do keep saying that, Jon." She sits down in the chair by her fireplace, and he knows that she's angry, and has been since he set foot in Winterfell. He doesn't know what more he can say to appease her. 

 

"I’m sick of this, all this fighting, don't you get sick of it too?" Jon asks, and the wrinkles beside his eyes are getting more prominent as he speaks. "I did what I had to do.”

 

"Please Jon, just shut up." 

 

Sansa says it loudly, and the strained whispers are all but forgotten to her now. He takes a step back, surprised because he can see she's trying hard to keep it together, but she lets her emotions sit out in the room with them. "I'm sick of you, sick of you acting like you are some martyr to the masses, a true man of honor. I know that you bent the knee in more ways than one." 

 

He takes a sharp intake of breath at her phrasing, and he wishes this wasn’t apart of the conversation at all. He didn't know how she knew, didn't care to find out how she knew, but what he shared with Dany wasn't any of her business. 

 

She could hate him for many things right now, but this matter she doesn't get to. 

 

"My personal relationship with Dany is really not any of your concern, Sansa." Jon sounds emotionless, and she stiffens at his reply.

 

This is not the type of relationship they were building before he left, but so many things are different now. Arya and Bran were home. The army of the dead was approaching. Two dragons sit on a hill just outside of Winterfell, and another slept on the other side of the castle. 

 

 

"My apologies," Sansa fakes a smile, the firelight shows him that the grin she wears doesn’t reach her eyes. She is skilled at faking emotions, and after meeting Cersei, he understands where she learned it from. "I will let you leave so you can retire to your chambers with your dragon queen, my lord."

 

"Sansa," Jon says in a whisper, and it's so soft and sweet she looks at him to make sure he actually said it. "She made me feel warm, and I never thought I'd be able to feel that again. I needed it before I am condemned to die in another pile of snow." 

 

"Please leave me," Sansa replies quickly, waving her hand toward the door, motioning him to leave. "I cannot bear to hear this any longer."

 

"I have no idea what you want from me," Jon replies, a hint of a laugh caught in his throat as he takes his hand and runs it over the thick hair that grows on his cheek. "I am really trying hard here."

 

"And, just as I expected, you aren't doing enough." 

 

"You are acting as cold to me as you were when you were just a girl." Jon says. "I'm not sure I deserve such treatment."

 

She rises at this accusation, forcing herself to turn and lock eyes with him. He doesn't look away, neither of them do, both staring into each others eyes like they are fighting a battle amongst themselves.

 

"Maybe you are right in that assessment." Sansa replies, daring a glance at his mouth, and swallowing hard. "I should've know you'd be just like every other man, letting your cock lead you around instead of your brain."

 

He reacts to this, body sprinting into action to grab her arms and he's not sure what his next response should be, but he holds her forearms tightly, but not too tight to warrant a flinch from her. She remains stoic. 

 

"My cock doesn't speak for me, my lady. I can assure you." Jon says, calling her something courteous, something he has never done before, something he is sure that will sit beneath her skin. 

 

"I don't believe you." She responds in turn, and now, he can see it, something he's not seen with her, but he's seen with Ygritte and Dany. Her eyes are hooded, her cupid's bow shining from the way her tongue swipes across it anxiously, the redness flushed across her cheeks. She's aroused. 

 

"No?” Jon challenges, raising his brow. “Feel for yourself." he says swallowing harshly, daringly, and she almost looks offended, but instead she does as she is told. She presses her hand to the crotch of his breeches and can feel how hard he is against his pants, and they haven't even done anything truly to warrant such a response. It’s the first moment they’ve entered new territory, and suddenly his blood is wildfire, and her touch an open flame.

 

"Are you thinking of your dragon queen?" Sansa questions, her voice is like a whimper and she clutches her fingers around the outline of his cock through his pants. 

 

"I'm thinking of you, and I think of you often when I take myself in hand at night," Jon replies, mouth ghosting over hers, the heat of her breath making his warm. He knows his honesty could lead him nowhere good, but he also knows he’s a bad liar. He has thought of her since the night before they retook Winterfell. He had closed his eyes, and when he thought of a girl with red hair and blue eyes, he only saw strands of auburn and eyes so blue he could drown in the depths of them. "If I were like any other man, I'd have already tried to make you mine a long time ago, but I won't ask that of you, I won't dishonor you. I'm your brother, Sansa, I am meant to protect you."

 

She listens to him, the word he speaks like a declaration or confession or an apology, but it doesn't stop her from pressing her lips to his. He responds eagerly, unable to stop himself from sneaking a taste, and he knew that she would taste like this, like everything he can never truly have. His tongue starts to beg entrance to her mouth, and she opens it with a soft moan. 

 

She pulls away, pressing her forehead into his and sighing. 

 

"Come here, Come to bed. I want to be warm too." She says, moving to her bed and slowly unlacing the back of her dress. He watches her, eyes barely blinking because he hasn't seen anything as beautiful before. 

 

She stands in nothing but her smallclothes; her skin is as white as the snow and scars that mark her skin, just like they mark his. She untangles her hair from the braid that fell loosely down her back, and he lets her hair fall over her shoulders, chest, and breast. He swallows hard. 

 

"Are you sure?" he asks, but he doesn't wait for her answer because he's already at her side, pressing her body to his and leaving a trail of wet kisses down the slope of her neck. 

 

"No," she replies, but she's shrugging the rest of her clothes off and standing as naked in front of him, as naked as her nameday. 

 

She’s beautiful, soft, and she's warm. 

 

He’s ignoring everything inside because he knows comparing her to Dany would be a total injustice to either woman, but he thinks that even if Dany has the blood of the dragon, Sansa has the heart of a wolf, and that thought makes him warmer than anything else. "I'm not sure about a lot of things these days, Jon."

 

"Me either," Jon replies, reaching to take his shirt off and letting it drop to the floor quietly. He reaches to unbutton his breeches, but she pushes his hands away and starts to do it herself. He lets her, unable to tear his eyes away from this moment. She doesn’t stop until he’s naked like her, and they both stand in front of each other, eyes raking over each other’s bodies like they are studying a foreign language. 

 

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Jon says, reaching to run his hands over her hair, and then letting them sit on both sides of her face, his left thumb slowly rubbing circles on her cheek. He brings her closer to him so he can kiss her again, unable to take the distance much longer. He needs to taste her mouth, her breast, her cunt. He wants and wants and wants. 

 

They are all hands, fingers, fingertips, unable to stop touching each other as he lays her on the bed. She lays against her pillows and watches as he presses hot kisses to her ankles, calves, knees, thighs, until he reaches the warmth between her legs and suddenly those sweet kisses turn into wet, hot licks, sucks, and open mouthed kisses.

 

“Jon, it feels so good, Jon,” Sansa breathes as she cards her fingers through his unruly hair, bringing him closer and closer until she was closer and closer. He couldn’t help the excitement that began to build inside his chest, her reactions spurring him on. 

 

“Tell me, sweet girl,” Jon takes his lips away for a moment, his mouth shiny and covered in her juices. “Tell me who makes you feel good.” 

 

“You,” Sansa replies, pressing his face back and he smiles and obliges. He likes the way she tastes, his tongue eager to lick and feel every part of her until she writhes and twists in a pleasure she’s never known before. “You.” Sansa repeats as he flattens his tongue, runs it up her slit slowly, and then again and again. 

 

“I can feel it, I can feel the warmth.” She says, her hand clutching the pillow behind her as she lifts her hips up a little for more control, but he grasps her thighs and presses her back down onto the mattress. She reaches her apex a moment later, his name on her lips, hands still pulling at his tufts of black hair, and a smile so wide he’s wondering where she was hiding it all this time. 

 

“I like the way you look when you peak,” Jon says lifting himself up on his forearms, and seeing her blush a new shade of pink. She grabs his arms, and pulls him up the length of her body until he’s flat atop of her. He steals kisses from her mouth, and he’s painfully aware of his cock pressing against her heat, begging entrance like his tongue to her mouth, wondering if it’s the right thing to want something so much. “You come so beautifully.” 

 

“Well, Jon Snow,” Sansa reaches down to hold his length in her hand, and she guides him so all he has to do is push inside of her. “Let’s see if you come beautifully, or maybe you come handsomely.” 

 

“Let’s see,” Jon says as he pushes himself inside of her in one quick motion, and Sansa gasps as he fills her up so completely, so fully. Her fingernails unable to stop themselves from scratching across his back, and he wonders if she’s trying to leave marks so everyone will know that he is hers. “You feel, you feel so good, Sansa.” Jon stutters on his words, trying to focus on making this last as long as he can for them. He begins to press kisses to her neck, and letting his tongue drag lazily across the length of her clavicle. 

 

“I want you to come, Jon,” Sansa whispers in his ear, and then she pulls him into a deep kiss. He groans into her mouth, letting himself just enjoy the moment, the way she kisses him as he moves inside of her, his pace quickening, the way she looks beneath him, a tangle of hair and soft purple bruises that he sucked onto her neck. He comes a second later with her name on his lips.

 

They break apart, heavy breaths and she grabs her blankets to cover her nakedness. He wonders if she’s already forgotten what they shared or maybe she wishes to forget, but he knows he won’t.

 

“You can’t have us both, Jon.” Sansa says, turning her head on her pillow to look at him. He does the same, and watches her turn back into the girl he confronted at the door a few hours ago. “I won’t be made a fool of in my own home.” 

 

“I would never do that Sansa,” Jon replies, reaching to pull her to him. She relented immediately, pressing her head to his chest and listening to the steadiness of his heartbeat, her eyes flicker closed once she finds it. 

 

“You can’t have us both.” 

 

“No,” Jon agrees, listening to her breathing slowly steady, and listening as she begins to lightly snore on his chest. He wraps his arms around her, and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s you, only you, always you.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are genuinely appreciated! I'm super duper bad about responding on here, but I read every comment and they always make my day!


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